The Stained Blade
by Ghost
Summary: Will and Lyra decides to take the matter of their reunion in their own hands, not realising that their actions may lead them into an adventure they didn't bargain for. Ongoing, please R&R.
1. Pre-Story Stuff

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Pre-Story Stuff

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"I can't live with you,

But I can't live without you!

'Cause I'm in love with you,

And everything about you!" 

- Queen, "I Can't Live With You"

Disclaimer: I admit to have shamelessly stolen ideas from following literary works; 

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C.S Lewis' "Chronicles of Narnia" (A must!)

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Roger Zelazny's Amber-books (Shadows: cooler then multiverse)

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Neil Gaiman's "Neverwhere" (If you're not nice, Mr Croup and Mr Vandemar will get you!)

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Astrid Lindgren's "Mio, My Son" (…cut through the hardest of stone!)

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Michael Ende's "The Neverending Story" (Another must!)

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J.R.R Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" (Then again, who haven't?)

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A few episodes of "Babylon 5" (For cool and inspiring quotes)

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A good deal of Norse mythology (More exactly, the legend of Tirfing)

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And of course Phillip Pullman's "His Dark Materials" (Duuuh!) 

All of these are excellent reading, especially Ende's "Neverending Story". _Don't_ be fooled by the crappy movies! The book is a thousand thousand times better in any way! Oh, and anyone who isn't familiar with the world of Narnia shouldn't even have bothered to read "His Dark Materials" in the first place, so I'll assume you are all familiar with that one. 

I must also confess that I have changed large parts of the legend of Tirfing, since I couldn't have Will running around killing people every time he wanted to use it (which is what the original curse was all about). 

Will, Lyra, Serafina Pekkala, Mary Malone, Iorek Byrnisson and any other character from the original His Dark Materials trilogy belongs to Phillip Pullman. The rest are to most part mine.

Now, enough of these pointless attempts of saving of my own skin from accusations of plagiarism, let us get on with the story!

But first…

Great Thanks Goes To: John Williams for providing music during the writing ("Rocketeer Theme"), Ludwig von Beethoven for writing his 9:th, which later became "A Song of Joy" and gave me hope during the terrible aftermath of "The Amber Spyglass", Robert Wells and the Rhapsody in Rock-crew for their wonderful version of said song and finally every author I have stolen from (listed above), and especially then Phillip Pullman himself, for all the powerful emotions he invoked in me through his books, for good or for bad.

As always, reviews are very much appreciated.


	2. Dedication

Dedication:

This story is dedicated to Astrid Lindgren, 1907-2002

Dreamweaver, story teller, friend of all children

A great light has gone out

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When the cold of Winter comes

Starless night will cover day

In the veiling of the sun

We will walk in bitter rain

But in dreams

I can hear your name

And in dreams

We will meet again

When the seas and mountains fall

And we come to end of days

In the dark I hear a call

Calling me there

I will go there

And back again

-"In Dreams", feutered in "Breaking of the Fellowship", Lord ofthe Rings Soundtrack

By Fran Walsh and Howard Shore

Thank you for the dreams, Astrid. See you in Nangijala!


	3. It's not fair!

His Dark Materials

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The Stained Blade

Chapter I: "It's not fair!"

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"Tho' we are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." 

- Alfred Lord Tennison, "Ulysses"

Will's world…

It was a rather grey and rainy Midsummer Day. The young man sitting on the bench tried his best not to feel melancholy, but it was hard, especially a day such as today.

"Lyra," he whispered. "Oh, my Lyra, where are you? I cannot feel your presence anymore. Not even here. I swore I would never forget you, but not being with you drives me insane."

A large cat jumped up on the bench beside him. He was one of the two people only in the world who knew that it was in fact not a cat at all, but that didn't matter much since they were both alone in the botanical garden. The cat walked over to him and gently stroked her head against his arm. He instinctively started to scratch her behind her ear.

"I don't think I can handle this much longer, Kir," he said.

"Don't talk like that, Will," his dæmon said gently.

"I am serious, Kir, I think I am loosing it."

"It has been two years. You need to let go of her."

"Don't you think I want to?" Tears suddenly burned in Will's eyes. Kirjava watched him with compassion, wishing for some way to comfort him but knowing that there were non, except to be there for him. Will continued. "I do want to, but the only way is to forget. And I will _not _forget. I _cannot _forget, no more then you can forget about Pantalaimon."

"Will…" Kirjava tried to find the right words. "It was necessary to leave them. We belong to different worlds after all. Remember what Xaphania said? There wasn't any other way."

"I remember, only too well," Will clenched his fists. "I should have told her no, should have told her and all the other angels to _find _a way. I should have refused, kept the Knife and used it to cut my way into Lyra's world!"

"And risk the existence of all the worlds?"

"What's the point? Without Lyra _my_ existence has no meaning."

Will started to cry again, but suddenly a rush of anger overwhelmed him. "No!" He stood up and shook his fist towards the grey skies. "To hell with it all! I will find her again! I don't care if I have to look for the rest of my life, I will find a way to her world so that we can be together again!" The anger disappeared and he sat down again, still with his fists clenched. "And let the rest of Creation burn! I don't care anymore."

Kirjava just looked at him with sadness in her eyes.

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Lyra's world…

"It's not fair."

The marten dæmon looked up at the girl, sitting on the bench with sunlight in her hair. The sunlight had no place in her face, though. Lyra was growing up into a young woman, but in the last two years she seemed to have lost her smile, piece by piece, ever since that terrible goodbye.

"What do you mean?" Pantalaimon said.

"You know perfectly well what I mean!" Lyra snapped. "I am talking about Will, I am talking about being forced to live without him for the rest of my life! The angels knew! They knew I loved him more the anything in the whole world and that he loved me just as much. They knew it would be torture for both of us to live separated. But _no!_ They had to close all the windows to prevent even a little of the Dust to get away. We had to live in a state of constant misery just because the universe felt a bit down every time the Knife was used. It's not fair."

"But what about the Spectres? We couldn't just have…"

"They told us themselves! They can handle the Spectres!" Lyra fought against the bitter tears. As usual, she lost. "We saved the world, Pan. We saved _all _worlds. We pledged for them, fought for them and bled for them, we lost friends and loved ones and what did we get? A lifetime of sorrow and loneliness and hard work, doomed to never meet again! That's not fair, and you know it, Pan!"

Pantalaimon sighed. "You are right, but there is nothing we can do about it. Don't you think I would like to meet Kirjava again? And Will and Mary? I do, more then anything, but we can't."

Lyra wiped her tears off her face with her sleeve, now with a look of determination in her face. "We'll see about that! Take my word for it, we will see about that."

Note: Perhaps somewhat short, but there is more. A LOT more. Trust me, this be a HUGE story.


	4. The Astral Meeting

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Chapter II: The Astral Meeting

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"Once you had gold,

Once you had silver,

Then came the rains,

Out of the blue.

Ever and Always,

Always and Ever,

No one can promise a dream come true,

Time gave both darkness and dreams to you." 

- Enya, "Once you had Gold"

Will and Lyra were dreaming. A funny thing with dreams is that even though they take place in ones mind, they are larger then the world. So large, that sometimes two dreams collide and become one. Dreams have a long reach, sometimes even stretching between worlds, if the people dreaming are special or feel in a special way for each other. This was one such a rare occasion.

Will found himself wandering through a shadowy woodland, with Kirjava by his side. Dark trees and mist surrounded him and sounds that filled him with horror and dread emerged from within the deep shades. But worst of it all was the loneliness, the terrible loneliness that devoured his soul and left him empty and hollow and cold and miserable and pained him so much that he feared he would go insane. Each new step felt heavier then the last, as if his shoes were of led and his clothes iron. Finally he fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the sorrow and cried out into the night.

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"Lyra!"

His scream echoed throughout the woods, mixed with Kirjava's equally painfilled cry. Empty tears rolled down his cheeks. His powers were all gone, and he prepared to be surrender himself to the darkness and the oblivion, which would devour him completely.

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Will…

It was just whisper in the wind, barely audible, but as soon as Will heard his name a spark of hope was lit in his heart. He forced himself to his feet again, while once again calling out: "Lyra!"

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"Will!"

This time he was sure of it, it was her! His powers returned for every step. He kept going and kept calling her name. For each time she answered him, somewhere deep in the forest, he move a little bit faster, until he was running like the wind, screaming her name with each breath. At the same time the woods changed around him. The mist disappeared and light penetrated the shadows, which died away. The trees, once dark and dying now became larger and healthier, with leaves of gold and silver. Finally Will understood that he was running through a forest of the same trees under which Lyra and himself had first discovered their love for each other.

And suddenly, there she was. Her hair glittered like gold, and her eyes shone from the light of her smile. They laughed and met in a warm embrace, kissing and hugging and loving one another, finally in each other's arms again after so long.

"Lyra," he whispered and felt the smell of her hair, the smell of spring and sunlight.

"Will, I found you…" she whispered back.

Suddenly the skies darkened once again. A chilling wind drew past them, biting into their bone with the same icy despair as before. Will could sense what was to happen. _"No!"_

But it was too late. The light disappeared totally. They were gliding apart. Will tried to reach her once more, but his feet had no hold of the ground. The world became fleeting and chaotic. He saw Lyra screaming silently in desperation as she disappeared out of view. And then he fell into the chaos.

Will and Kirjava awoke screaming in the middle of the night. The horrible sound awoke Mary Malone, who immediately grabbed a nightrobe and rushed over to his bed.

"Will, are you all right?" she asked. "My God, you are as pale as ghost! What happened?"

"A dream," he said with tears running down his cheeks. "A terrible dream. Mary, I saw her! We met in the dream and then we were torn away from each other again, just like last time!"

"Hush," she said and hugged him. "It was just a dream."

"No, it wasn't," Will whispered. "It was something more."

Mary was concerned about him. Ever the last two years they had come very close to each other and Mary admitted that she loved him like a brother. Seeing him in such pain broke her heart, and she wished that there was something she could do.

"Try to get some more sleep," she sad. "You will feel better in the morning."

Will laid back in his bed again. Kirjava, who was apparently still nervous after the dream she had shared with Will, calmed down somewhat and snuggled down next to him.

Mary returned to her own bedroom, but didn't immediately go to bed. She looked out the window. The night was dark and the sky filled with cloud. Only one small star could be seen in all that darkness. Mary frowned. Will had been melancholy last year as well. He was always sad around midsummer, but this year was worse then the first one. Will was a brave young man and always did his best to hide his feelings so that she wouldn't worry. Seeing him this out of balance made her wonder if he wasn't sliding into total depression. Mary decided that she had to think of something else for him to concentrate on, so that he wouldn't think about Lyra. Question was, what?

She observed the single star again. It seemed so small and helpless in the sea of blackness.

"Damn them," she whispered and returned to her bed.

Will lay awake in his bed. He could not fall back to sleep again, and he knew that his dæmon was also awake. He put his hand on her warm fur.

"It wasn't just a dream, Kir," he whispered.

"I know," came the answer.

"I must find her. God help me, but I must find her."

Kirjava sighed and looked at her master's face. It was worried and stained from too many tears.

"I will help you," she said.


	5. Unexpected Help

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Chapter III: Unexpected Help

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"Friends will be friends

When you're in need of love they give you care and attention

Friends will be friends 

When you're through with life and all hope is gone

Hold out your hand, 'cause right in the end

Friends will be friends."

- Queen, "Friends will be Friends"

Lyra also awoke screaming, but quickly quieted down when she remembered where she was. Her scream awoke some of the other girls in the sleeping hall, but she told them that she was just having a bad dream, and they soon got back to sleep. Lyra was glad that they didn't see her tears in the darkness.

"Pan," she whispered so that the other girls would not hear. "Pan, are you there?"

"Of course I am," came the answer.

"Did you also…?"

"Yes. Yes, I also saw the dream."

"It was real, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Pantalaimon replied. "It really was them, wasn't it? Will and Kirjava?"

"We had contact," Lyra said. "He misses me just as much as I miss him! Oh, Pan, I must find a way to get to him! I must!"

"_We_ must!" Pan said. "Tomorrow we will make up a plan! Using the Knife can't be the only way to travel the worlds. Your father found a way, and we will also find one!"

"I hope so," Lyra said. Having Pan by her side made her relax, and soon they were both falling asleep once more.

"What? Read the alethiometre for you?" Dame Hannah looked at Lyra. "Lyra, you are here to learn to do it for yourself. I cannot pick up the alethiometre and read it every time someone wants to know something! It is not a toy."

"I know, Dame Hannah," Lyra said. She was at Dame Hannah's office, trying to look as pitiful and sad as she could. "I used to know how to read the alethiometre, remember? I know what it is and what it can do. I don't know what else to do!"

"And now you want me to read it?" Dame Hannah's voice was dry. "To find something out about some boy you fancy?"

"I don't _fancy_ him, Dame Hannah. I _love_ him, and he loves me," Lyra couldn't keep the defiance in her from tainting her voice. Dame Hannah lifted an eyebrow.

"Young girls like you often talk about love, without really _knowing_ what they are talking about," she said. "I am sure it is just ordinary affection, you will forget about him soon."

"Oh yeah?" Lyra said, and this time her voice was filled to the brim with defiance. "Well, I haven't seen him for two years and I still can't get him out of my head, no matter how much I try! I dreamt about him last night and woke up screaming! How is that for affection!" She suddenly realised that she had overdone it, and quickly took a more humble tone. "Dame Hannah, I realise that what I am asking sounds silly and foolish, but I have to know how to contact him! I have to find a way or I will loose my mind! Please! Just this once!"

Dame Hannah looked at her for a short while, examing her. "Why come to me? I'm not the only one in this institution who can read the alethiometre."

"Because you are the best," Lyra said truthfully.

"You really are serious about this, aren't you?" Dame Hannah asked.

"Ask the alethiometre," Lyra said. "Then you'll know how serious I am."

Dame Hannah sighed. "I'll take your word for it. Does anyone of the other girls know anything about this?"

"No," Lyra said. "I am here by myself. Nobody knows about this except me. And Pan, of course."

"Then it will stay between us. I do not want any girls running around here asking me more foolish questions." 

"Deal," Lyra said and felt that tingling feeling in her abdomen that appears when you see that your crazy, half-baked plan is working after all.

Dame Hannah picked up a bag made out of black velvet and opened it. From within it she took a golden object that looked a bit like a compass. Lyra recognised it as an alethiometre, a Truthsayer. She had one of her own, and throughout her adventure with Will and the others she had had the gift to read it perfectly. She had now lost that gift, but still had the alethiometre and had vowed to learn how to use it again if it so would take her entire life. Unfortunately, she wasn't prepared to wait a lifetime to see Will again, and that was why she had come to see Dame Hannah.

"Now then," the older woman said and prepared to turn the small knobs on the device. "What do you want me to ask it?"

"Ask it if Will is all right," Lyra said.

Dame Hannah turned the wheels. She frowned. "He is not in any danger, but he is in great pain."

"Ask it if there is any way for me to go to him," Lyra said.

Dame Hannah twisted the small wheels and focussed. Yet again she frowned. "It just says "Find the House of A Thousand Doors"."

"The House of A Thousand Doors?" Lyra repeated. "What on Earth is that?"

"I don't know," Dame Hannah said. "The answer is very complex, I would need to consult my books to find out exactly what it means."

"You have already done enough," Lyra assured her. "Dame Hannah, I don't know how to thank you."

"Just keep this to yourself and don't go out on some wild adventure before you know what you are looking for," Dame Hannah replied. "Now go, you will be late for class."

Lyra thanked her again and hurried out the door.

"The House of A Thousand Doors," she said to Pan. "Oh, Pan! There _is _a way!"

"Don't get too agitated!" Pantalaimon said. "We might not even be able to find it!"

"We _must_ be able to find it," Lyra said. "Or the alethiometre wouldn't tell us to look for it! Pan, don't you see? There is a _chance_! There is actually a chance!"

Since that day, Lyra spent every waking moment looking for the mysterious House of A Thousand Doors. It proved to be more difficult then she had originally expected. No matter how long she sat with her nose in old books at St. Sophia's great library, or even if she went to Jordan to consult their collections of scrolls and tooms she could find anything that mentioned such a place. Dame Hannah did indeed consult her books, but could only make out that the House of A Thousand Doors was hidden well, only a few people in the world knew about it and that it was, in fact, not really a house at all. Exactly what it was, she could not say. All of this made it even harder for Lyra to find it, and finally she felt ready to give up.

"It's no use, Pan," she said after reading through yet another dusty old book finding absolutely nothing of interest. "There is nothing in this one about the House of A Thousand Doors. If I didn't know that the alethiometre always tells the truth, I would doubt it even existed."

"We can't give up now!" Pan said. "Not when we know there is a way! Then we would have to go through life knowing there is a way to find them."

"You're right!" Lyra said. "That would be worse then before!"

She got up, returned the book to the librarian and left the library.

"So now what?" Pantalaimon asked.

"I don't know, Pan," Lyra sighed. "I need to think."

"Then let's go to the Thinking Place," he said.

"You read my mind, Pan, you read my mind."

The bridge was ancient, made out of withered stone, crossing a large creek not far from Jordan College. Lyra couldn't remember when she first had found her Thinking Place, under the bridge on the thin piece of land close to the torn stone base. Old hollys and thin willows grew on both sides of the creek, and the only sounds she could hear while sitting there was the wind playing in the branches of the willows and the hollys, and the sound of the water passing by along with the song of occasional birds or the buzzing of dragonflies during the summer. Lyra had always found the place to be almost unearthly serene, and she had always gone there when she needed some time alone to think. 

"This is the first time I've been here since I came back to Oxford," Lyra told Pan. "I had almost forgotten how beautiful it is here. I remember it allot bigger, though."

"It was two more then years since then," Pantalaimon reminded her. "You have grown allot since then."

"Yeah, becoming a "young woman" and all of that," Lyra said dryly. "I don't feel any more grown at all."

"Perhaps because you did most of that growth during our adventures?" Pan suggested. Lyra nodded, and Pan could see that her thoughts shifted towards Will once again.

"So, what do we know for now?" she finally said.

"We need to find a place called the House of A Thousand Doors," Pan said. "Trouble is, no one has even heard about it and we cannot find anything in the libraries of neither St. Sophia nor Jordan College."

"What's the use to have the greatest university in the whole of Brytannia if you can't find a lousy house?" Lyra asked and threw a pebble into the water. 

"Remember what Dame Hannah said, it's not a real house."

"I don't care what it is," Lyra said. "If it really has a thousand doors it has to be huge! Somebody must have heard about it!"

She tossed another pebble into the stream.

"You know, Pantalaimon, I am getting firmly sick of this," she then said.

"The alethiometre never said it would be easy to find," Pan said and tried to sound comforting. "Remember what they say; "Everything worth having is worth fighting for"."

Lyra frowned. It sounded very much like something Xaphania had said when explaining why she and Will couldn't be together. "I have done my deal of fighting, Pan. Why can't something, _just for once,_ be eas…" she grew silent, staring at the sky. "Well, I'll be!"

"What?" Pan asked and followed her eyes.

High in the sky two figures came flying. It was two birds… No, one bird! A large goose, flying right next to…

"A witch!" Pan said.

"It's Serafina Pekkala!" Lyra cried, suddenly overwhelmed with joy. "Oh, Pan! She is coming! Serafina is coming to help us!"

Lyra got to her feet and started waving. Soon her friend had made a sudden dive and swooped down beneath the holly branches. Demonstrating their great skill at flying Serafina Pekkala and her dæmon Kaisa glided above the creek and gently landed next to Lyra and Pan. Before Serafina even had the time to get off her cloud pine branch Lyra had embraced her as hard as she could. "Serafina Pekkala! I am so glad to see you!"

"I am glad to see you too, child," Serafina said and laughed. "Please, let me get off this branch before you squeeze the life out of me."

Lyra let go and the witch who got off the branch and looked at her with her emerald-green eyes. "You have grown since last, Lyra, you are not a child at all."

"You still look the same," Lyra said. "Have you come to help me?"

"Yes," Serafina nodded. "Many nights ago I was floating among the dreamlands, when a cry of desperation reached me. I did not know what had happened, but I knew that it was your Cry, Lyra. I raced her as soon as I could, fearing that you might be in grave danger. Fortunately, I was wrong, for I see now that you are perfectly fine."

"I'm not in danger," Lyra said. "But I wouldn't say I'm perfectly fine, either."

"Tell me what troubles you," Serafina said. "Then I will see what I can do to aid you."

Lyra told her about how much she missed Will and the wonderful yet still terrible dream. Serafina nodded when she reached that part of the story, but said nothing.

"And then I managed to convince Dame Hannah to read the alethiometre for me, since I can't do it myself yet," Lyra finished. "I asked how to get to Will, and it told me to look for the House of a Thousand Doors, whatever that means. Do you have any idea what it was talking about?"

Serafina was quiet for a short while. "There is a legend among us witches, about a place that is not a place," she then said. "Called the House of Doors. Only a few chosen ones had access to The House, and those could walk the Roads that would take them anywhere they wanted to go."

"Then that's exactly what I've been looking for!" Lyra said. "Serafina, can you tell me more about this House?"

"Perhaps," Serafina's eyes suddenly became narrow. "But first I need to ask you if you know what you are getting yourself into. Last time you ventured into something like this…"

"…I meet Will," Lyra cut in. "And I saved the universe _and_ changed death. Don't try to tell me it wasn't worth the danger."

"True," Serafina said. "But that was for the good of the worlds. This is different. You do this for your own good."

"And for Will," Lyra said. "Serafina Pekkala, are you telling me that you will not help me? Fine! Then I will find someone else who can tell me about the House, or I will find another way. I'm on the right track now, I know it! I will find a way to Will's world, and you cannot stop me."

Serafina smiled. "Of course not. How could I ever stop you, Lyra? Very well, I am convinced, I will tell you what I know."

"Oh, thank you!" Lyra said enthusiastically. She didn't know what made her happiest, the fact that she would learn more about the House or the fact that her friend was on her side. She knew in her heart that it would have been much harder to go through with this without the blessing of the elder witch.

"I confess that I do not know much about the House of Doors," Serafina continued. "It is all legends and fairy tales. But there is one witch, in Lapland, who was old when I was just a girl. She knows secrets about this world not even I dare guess. Maybe, just maybe, she can tell you what you need to know."

"Does that mean we are going to Lapland?" Lyra could feel the old urge for adventure and discovery rising inside her. Living at St. Sophia for two years had been interesting, she would never have thought that there could be so much knowledge to be learned in the world, but she realised now that her time in school actually was rather boring in comparison to fighting with armoured bears and flying with witches in the cold lands of the North.

"I will speak to your headmistress," Serafina said. "If I convince her, we can leave tonight."

In a sudden attack of emotion Lyra gave Serafina a tight hug. "I love you, Serafina Pekkala," she whispered. "You are the best friend a girl could wish for."

Serafina smiled. Lyra had, without knowing it, just rid the witch of the last of her doubt regarding helping Lyra. Now she did not care if so the skies fell to the Earth. She would help Lyra, no matter what.

Note: Now things are getting moving! Next, off to ol'Sweden! :)


	6. Riddles and Doors

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Chapter IV: Riddles and Doors

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"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, then are dreamt of in your philosophy."

- William Shakespeare, "Hamlet "

Lyra and Serafina decided to wait with their journey until the next day. They then took a Gyptian boat throughout The Fens. Lord Faa himself had personally seen to it that his two friends could travel as fast and safe as possible. "For Lyra, anything," he said. "I would gladly mobilise every Gyptian vessel in The Fens if it would help her."

Serafina had thanked him, but also let him know that one fast ship was enough.

Travelling through The Fens was not as exciting as last time, since Lyra had seen way too much since then to be impressed. It was, however, nice with a change of scenery. Serafina stayed with her the entire time, even though Lyra could notice that she would much rather fly. Lord Faa had assured them of Lyra's safety, but the witch still felt that she would stay with her young friend. It was most likely because of the hug, but Lyra didn't understand that.

After arriving at the Germanic Sea they soon reached Swecia and got of at Kalmar. Lord Faa had tried to get them on a ship that would take them all the way to Trollesund, like last time, but both Lyra and Serafina had assured him that he had already done enough.

From Kalmar they travelled from city to city by train, constantly switching. At first Lyra found the trains more interesting then the boat, but soon she realised there was little real fun to the whole locomotive-idea. Serafina disliked it even more, but held a brave face throughout the journey. Finally Lyra found herself spending allot of her time looking out the train windows. Anyone who has ever travelled by train knows how the shifting panorama outside effects ones mind, and Lyra soon found herself thinking about things she didn't know she had inside her head. But mostly she thought about Will, and his hair and lips and hands and smile…

Then again, she thought, he must have changed allot during the past two years. She tried to picture herself Will at the age of fourteen. He must be taller, and probably a bit broader across the shoulders. Perhaps he had another hairdo then the one she remembered? Her memory of the dream was a little hazy, but she decided that unless he had gone through a massive change of personality, which she found unlikely, she would still love him.

Finally they had reached Lapland and travelled so far up north that they had to hire a dogsleigh. They didn't need a guide, though, since Serafina had been to the area before.

Lyra found that the dogs were almost supernaturally obedient and intelligent, and she had soon mastered manoeuvring the sleigh as Serafina flew at low altitude nearby.

"Where are we going?" she shouted as they raced across the beautiful frozen highlands.

"To Mount Kyopela," Serafina responded and pointed ahead of them. "Where Renska the Elder lives!"

Lyra had all but forgotten about the harsh and untamed beauty in the northern regions. Now she only needed Iorek by her side and she would be unstoppable. She looked up and noticed a steep, dark grey mountain rising in front of them like an evil finger. She realised that she had never been this close to finding some real answers. She only hoped that Serafina's hopes in the ancient witch were justified.

Luckily, Lyra didn't need to actually climb to the cave were Renska the Elder dwelled. Serafina gave her a lift on the cloud pine branch, which quickly elevated them to the cave.

"Listen to me, Lyra," Serafina said when they landed. "This woman is older then anyone can remember and her powers and wisdom are as vast as the sky. She is one of the few beings in this world that I truly fear. When you stand in front of her you must speak the truth, mind your feelings and not be afraid. Do you understand?" 

Lyra nodded and they both entered the cave together. Inside they saw a small fire, probably only to shed light rather then to spread any heat. Strange markings had been painted on the walls and the eerie light from the fire made shadowy figures dance around them. A dusty and seemingly very dead old skin from some animal lay in front of them one the stone floor. When they came closer it suddenly got up with frightening speed and glared at them with flaming, almost insane eyes. Lyra's heart almost jumped out of her chest until she realised what the monstrosity really was; a giant wolverine, apparently as old as the mountain itself. The fur had once been brown but now had an uncertain grey shade. The claws and teeth were enormous and it looked thin and famished, yet powerful. She had never seen a more frightening appearance, even at Svalbard, where her friend Iorek Byrnisson had fought the bear-king Iofur Raknisson. Pantalaimon immediately hid behind Lyra's legs and even Kaisa took a nervous step back.

"State your intent!" the wolverine dæmon growled.

"There now, Maattiaiset," a voice from the fire said. "Let the children come to my fire. I have waited for them."

Maattiaiset gave them a last malignant glare before slipping away into the shadows, undoubtedly to some place were he could watch them without being watched.

Lyra and Serafina approached the fire, and Lyra could now see the person sitting by it.

Renska the Elder probably were the oldest creature Lyra had ever seen, with the exception of the Authority, the ancient angel that had died before her eyes two years ago. Her face was wrinkled, but she could see the great beauty the woman once must have possessed underneath. The long hair was white as snow and braided with colourful pearls of glass and feathers. A tick fur hung loosely over her shoulders, and underneath she was dressed in the same black velvet clothing as Serafina, although much older and more torn. But what really made her look old, and what really caught Lyra completely off guard, were her eyes.

When Lyra looked into Serafina's eyes she was met with wisdom and kindness in so great amounts that she felt awed. But Renska's eyes were deep pools of ancient knowledge that threatened to devour her. Two completely round spots of darkness, surrounded by ivory-white and seemingly only coloured by the reflecting flames of the fire. These were the kind of eyes that saw everything, and Lyra had an unpleasant feeling that she might fall into those eyes and never return. It was, Lyra suddenly realised, very much like looking into the monstrous Abyss outside the worlds, which Lyra and Will had encountered on their journey through the realm of death.

"So, you are Lyra?" the age-old witch asked and smiled. Her voice was like the sound of a tree being ripped up by the roots by the wind. Lyra had expected the old woman to be lacking at least some teeth, but they were not only all accounted for, they were also in a remarkably well-preserved state, gleaming like polished alabaster. "The winds have whispered about you, child, and the fire has been singing. You have made us all a great favour. Tell me, young Eve, what bring you to my simple cave."

"I…" Lyra stuttered. "I came to ask for your help."

"Ah," Renska said and smiled even wider. "You have lost something, yes? Or perhaps someone? I see through you, child, and I see a broken heart. For broken hearts there is no cure."

"I am not looking for a cure," Lyra said. "Only release. I need to find the House of Doors."

Renska looked at her without speaking for a short while. "Do you fully understand what you are looking for? Can you comprehend what you might be getting yourself into if I give you the answer?"

"So you have the answer!" Lyra said, a little louder then she intended. Her heart was racing.

"Do you _understand?"_ Renska asked again and her eyes seemed to be looking straight into Lyra's soul.

"No," Lyra said truthfully. "I don't know what I'm getting myself into, but I do know that it cannot possibly be worse then what I've already been through. I mean, I've experienced _death_, for crying out loud!"

"Yes, I suppose so," Renska said. "Very well then."

She took a small leather pouch from within her clothing and opened it. Then she carefully poured a thin stream of green powder into the palm of her hand, which she then threw into the fire. There was a loud _puff_, and the flames turned green for a short while. A strange, green smoke arose from the fire. Lyra thought that it smelled both refreshing and intoxicating, helping her to think clearer. Renska quickly inhaled allot of the smoke and closed her eyes. Her eyelids started to vibrate as if she had some kind of reaction, and Lyra was afraid that the witch had accidentally happened to poison herself. But then those terrible eyes snapped open and stared at her.

"You must return to the place you came from," Renska said with a strange voice, as if she was in some kind of trance. "There you must look… for the one carrying the symbol of the Roads! She will show you the way… to the House of a Thousand Doors!" You must… go alone. Serafina Pekkala must not go with you. Find someone to guide you. Do not walk… the roads without the Guide! Then follow the Road that leads… to your beloved's world."

A dozen questions whirled in Lyra's mind. How did the symbol of the Roads look like? Was this person at St. Sophia, or just in Oxford in general? But Renska seemed to wake up from the trance and Lyra realised that the time of questions and answers was over.

"I cannot tell you more, Lyra," Renska said. "Serafina Pekkala, take her back and prepare her. She will need all help you can provide on her coming journey."  
Serafina nodded. "I will do so, Elder." She took Lyra's hand. "Come, Lyra. Now we must leave."

Lyra nodded, still having troubles breaching eye contact with Renska. The witch and the girl made a hasty exit. Renska looked at them as they left and smiled. Maattiaiset appeared from the shadows and sat down next to her.

"You did not tell them everything," the wolverine said and looked at his human. "About the House, about the boy she seeks."

"They do not want to know everything," Renska answered. "Things tend to get very complicated when people know _everything._ They always try to change Destiny. It is better to let things happen the way they are meant to happen."

Maattiaiset nodded. Renska chuckled a little to herself. "Good luck, young Lyra. You -and your beloved- will need it soon enough."

__

Twelve days later…

Immediately after returning from her trip to Lapland Lyra began scouring St. Sophia for a girl or woman wearing the sign of the Roads. She didn't know what kind of mark it would be or how it would look like, but she suspected it to be either a birthmark or a tattoo and felt confident that she would recognise it the moment she saw it.

For three days she sought it. She asked all the academics and kept her eyes open for just about anything that even reminded her about roads. She questioned her friends at the school if they knew of anyone wearing such a mark, and she even sought it among the servants. But the search was in vain.

"What am I doing wrong?" Lyra asked Pantalaimon as she sat down on the stairs to St. Sophia and put her chin in her hands. "I can't find the one with the symbol!"

"Renska never said it would be easy," Pan said. "Don't worry, it will all turn out fine."

"How?" Lyra asked.

"I don't know," Pan admitted. "It's a mystery."

"Oh, it's no use," Lyra said and put her face in her hand, sobbing silently. "I'll never find that symbol."

"That's what you said last time," Pan reminded her. "You have to keep trying."

"I know, Pan, I know," Lyra said. "I'm just so very tired of this."

"Hello Lyra. How are you?"

Lyra looked up and saw a girl, around twelve years, with straight brown hair and warm, sincere eyes. A dæmon in the form of a squirrel was sitting on the top of her head. Lyra tried to remember her name. "Oh, hello Dora."

"You look sad," Dora Portia said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I'm alright, Dora," Lyra said. "It's just that I've been looking for something, but I haven't been able to find it."

"I could help you look for it!" Dora said and smiled. "Mrs van Helsen says I have a talent for finding things."

Lyra smiled. The girl reminded her about herself before she left Jordan on her quest for the enigma of Dust. It felt like an eternity ago. As Lyra looked at her, she noticed that Dora was wearing a peculiar medallion around her neck. It looked a bit like a wheel made out of brazen.

"What's that?" Lyra asked and pointed.

"What? Oh, this?" Dora said. "It's a medallion my father brought home from one of his travels in the East." Dora's eyes became dim for a moment, and Lyra felt pity for her. Like herself, Dora was now an orphan. "It symbolises that Wheel of Eight Roads, and is an important symbol in the Bhuddai religion…"

"What did you say it was called?" Lyra's attention was suddenly focused on the other girl and her medallion.

"The Wheel of Eight Roads," Dora repeated. "Why? Lyra, why are you staring at me like that?"

"It's you!" Lyra said. "Pan, it's her we've been looking for!"

"I told you it all turn out fine," Pan said.

"What are you talking about?" Dora asked. "Why have you been looking for me?"

"A witch told us that you were the only one who could help us," Lyra said, trying not to rush her explanation. "Dora, I don't know if you understand any of this, but we need to find the House of Doors!"

Dora's eyes grew large and round as she stared at Lyra. She shook her head. "How… how do you know about the House?"

"The alethiometre told us that it was the only way to find… someone," Lyra hurried to explain. "If you know where it is I would be really, really glad if you could tell me how to find it."

"It's not that simple," Dora said. "First of all, the House isn't exactly a place you can _go_ to! I don't think it exists in that way."

"What do you mean?" Lyra asked.

Dora searched for the correct words. "The House is everywhere, and any door can become one of the Doors in the House. But it takes a special kind of person to open it."

"Are _you _such a person?" Lyra asked. 

Dora hesitated. "Well, yeah, sorta."

"Sorta?"

"Okay, I am."

"Then you must open a Door for me!" Lyra said. "It's my only chance!"

"Oh no!" Dora said and backed off, shaking her head. "Nononono_no_! Not a chance!"

"But why not?" Lyra asked. "If you have the gift why not use it?"

"It's not a gift, it's a curse!" Dora said. "I'm sorry, Lyra. I… I can't do it."

"But why?"

"It took my mother! Okay?" Dora shouted. "I… I'm afraid that it will take me as well."

"Took your… mother?" Lyra said. "Dora, what do you mean?"

Dora sighed. "I guess it runs in the family. My mother could also enter the House, you see. She was the one who told me how to do it, but she also told me never to do it on my own. My father didn't like the idea of travelling throughout the House of a Thousand Doors. Rather ironic, since he was the great sailor and world traveller. My mother and I used to use the House to travel all around the world to meet him. It was an easy way to travel, in through one door and out through another. My father was happy about it, of course, but I think it spooked him a bit." Dora's eyes were filled with tears as she continued her story. "Then, one day, she went into the House and never returned. I don't know what happened. We waited for a long, long time, my father and me. I wanted to go look for her, but my father wouldn't let me. He said he couldn't bear to loose us both. Finally we had to accept that we would never see her again. My father died in a shipwreck some time after that, and I was left all alone."

Lyra felt incredibly moved by the story. She put her hand to her cheeks and found that they were wet with tears.

"So you see," Dora said. "I do have my reasons to fear the House. I never want to open another one of those doors ever again."

"Oh, Dora," Lyra said. "I'm so terribly sorry. I have also lost someone I love, you see."

"You have?" Dora asked. "Tell me."

She sat down next to Lyra who started to tell her the whole story, about the Dust, about her father, Lord Asriel. About Bolvangar and the terrible experiments conducted there. About Iorek and the other armoured bears, and about Serafina Pekkala and her witch-sisters. She told her about how she left her own world and meet Will, how they came to know and love each other, how they struggled trough war and death, and finally how they were forced to leave each other. When she was finished, Dora was crying even more then Lyra had been, since Lyra was good at telling stories even if they were true.

"That was the most wonderful story I have ever heard," Dora said. "And now you want to travel the House of Doors? To find Will's world?"

"Yes," Lyra answered. "I can't go on like this, I must see him again."

"But even if you do, you wouldn't be able to find the way back again," Dora said. "You would die within ten years!"

"There must be people who can open the Doors in Will's world too," Lyra said. "Ten years is a long time, we are sure to find one if we look hard enough. In any case, I don't care. All I ask of you is to open the Door. After that I can handle myself."

Dora nodded. "I guess I could open a Door for you, but it is dangerous in the House. You might never return, like my mother."

"That is a chance I will have to take," Lyra said sternly.

"Love really must be something if you would put yourself at risk for it like that," Dora said and smiled.

"It is," Lyra nodded. "It really is."

Later, Lyra had everything prepared. Dora had wanted her that there was nothing to eat in the House, so she had packed a bag full of food that she hoped would be enough. She also had her alethiometre with her, even though she didn't know what to do with it. She just felt comfortable knowing she had it with her. When inside the House she would find the Guide Renska had been talking about and convince him or her to lead her to Will's world. Even thought she was taking an enormous chance she felt confident that she would succeed.

When all preparation were finished Serafina, Dora and herself had retreated to a conveniently empty room at St. Sophia.

"This door will do fine," Dora said and nodded at the door to the hallway. "Any door can become an opening to the House of Doors."

"Lyra, before you go I have something for you," Serafina said. "I am not allowed to accompany you this time, but maybe these gifts can provide some help." She handed Lyra a large, red piece of cloth. Lyra took it and found that it was a cloak, scarlet red with embroided golden runes.

"This cloak is my first gift. It has been in my family for a long while," Serafina said. "Nobody knows exactly what it does, only that it protects its wearer from danger."

"Thank you," Lyra said and put the cloak on. It fitted her perfectly. "It's wonderful."

"My next gift is this," Serafina said and handed her a long dagger in a leather sheet. "It is not as sharp as the Knife, but might prove to be sharp enough."

Lyra pulled the dagger out of the sheet. It was longer then the Knife had been, with a blade of almost three decimetres. It was not metal, but seemed to be made out of polished bone or horn. The edge was truly sharp, though, and strange symbols Lyra couldn't read was carved into the blade. "Thank you again, Serafina," she said and quickly fastened it to her belt. "This might come in handy."

"Ready?" Dora asked.

"Yes," Lyra nodded.

Dora put her hand on the door's handle, and a shudder seemed to go through her body. She quickly removed it again. "I can't do it!"

"You have to!" Lyra cried. "Please, Dora! You're my only hope."

Dora drew a deep breath and put her hand on the handle again. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Then she turned the handle and ripped the door open, immediately retreating back to Lyra and Serafina.

Before them in the door, where they would normally see an ordinary hallway, was a dark portal of shadows and mist. Lyra believed that she could see something inside, but she wasn't really sure what. Strange shapes and lines, moving yet still standing still.

"So that is the House of Doors?" she said.

Dora shook her head. "No, that's just the Door. It looks different on the other side."

Lyra decided not to postpone it any longer. She picket up her bag and walked over to the portal. She lifted her right hand and slowly reached into the shadows. There was no resistance, only a strange cold feeling, like putting your hand through a wall of fog. She looked back at Serafina and Dora.

"Goodbye then," she said. "Till we meet again."

And then, wrapped in Serafina's cloak, she and Pantalaimon took the step through the Door, into the House of a Thousand Doors.


	7. Tirfing

****

Chapter V: Tirfing

__

"Mid the battle gear saw he a blade triumphant,

old sword of Eotens, with edge of proof,

warrior's heirloom, weapon unmatched,

-- save only 'twas more than other men

to bandy-of-battle could bear at all--

as the giants had wrought it, ready and keen.

Seized then its chain-hilt the Scylding's chieftain,

bold and battle-grim, brandished the sword,

reckless of life."

- Beowulf

It was warmer then usual in Italy. Mary, Will and their dæmons (though nobody could see Mary's) were warm but satisfied when they entered the classy hotel in uptown Rome. Mary had thought that perhaps a vacation would be the right thing to cheer Will up and since her economic status had risen severely since that day Lyra came barging into her laboratory, due to some interesting "discoveries" she had made regarding certain sub-atomic particles, she could easily afford it. To her delight she found that Will started to come out of his dark mood.

__

Must be all the sun, she thought as she checked in. "There," she said when she signed the guestbook.

"Good," said the friendly receptionist in broken English. "Ah, I am sorry, Singorina Malone, but we do not allow pets at this hotel."

"Pets? What do you mean?"

"I mean that your cat…"

__

"We do not have a cat."

"You do not have a cat."

Mary had to smile. Sometimes the oldest tricks were the best. After her meeting with Serafina Pekkala her slumbering power had been awakened and started to develop. She was not a witch, not yet anyway, but she knew enough to make her life considerably easier. The blank look in the receptionist's face disappeared.

"What was I saying?" he wondered, slightly dazed.

"You were going to give me the key," Mary helped him out.

"Oh, sì!"he said and handed her the room-key. "Room 206. Have a pleasant stay."

"Thank you," Mary said. "Oh, and by the way, what were those people outside across the street doing? It looked like they were digging something."

"Sì, an archaeological dig. Apparently they discovered an old series of catacombs deep under the ground while repairing a gas-leak. It is not unusual in a city as old and with such a rich cultural heritage as ours. One can't put a shovel into the ground without finding something. But don't worry, they have assured us that they will not pose a disturbance to our guests."

"Interesting," Mary said. "Well, we better get to our room. Will?"

"Coming," Will said. "By the way, how old did you say those catacombs were?"

"From the time of the late Roman Empire, I think," the receptionist said.

"Oh, thanks," Will nodded and followed his friend.

The receptionist looked at the young man. When he stepped into the elevator a large, black cat quickly slipped in between the closing doors and settled close to his legs. The friendly Italian frowned, as if he tried to remember something. He shrugged, assured himself that it was nothing important, and turned around just in time to fire a smile at the potential guests who had just entered the lobby.

Later that night Will awoke in his comfortable hotel-bed. The room was dark and the pale moonlight shone in through the window. Not knowing exactly what had awakened him, he sat up in the bed and felt the warm Italian night surround him. 

It had been a fun day. Mary had taken him to see the different attractions Rome had to offer. The Coliseum, the Pantheon and all the wonderful buildings and statues. Shopping in large stores as well as small, peculiar shops. Eating good and interesting food. Yes, it had been a great day, and a tiring one. Therefore, he was amazed that he was wide-awake. He could recall no dream, neither nightmare nor pleasant one. The clock showed 04:00. Will looked around in search for the cause of his awakening.

Kirjava was sitting at the end of his bed, staring straight into the moon. She was silent and still as a statue, bathing in the cold light. Will looked at her. She seemed to be listening to something that his ears could not perceive.

"Kirjava?" he whispered, afraid to wake Mary, who was sleeping in the room next to his. "Kirjava, what are you doing?"

The dæmon slowly turned her head to face him. Her eyes were wide open and her pupils were wide and dark, like the eyes of a cat always are in darkness. They were gleaming in the moonlight as she stared at him with a strangely blank look on her feline face.

"Will," she whispered back. "Can… can you hear it?"

"Hear what?" Will asked.

"Listen!" Kirjava said and quickly moved her head as if trying to catch a fleeting echo of a sound in the night. Will listened. At first he couldn't hear anything, but then it came, so quietly and gently that he almost did not notice it in the beginning. A low, changing sound, like a drawn out sigh from a forgotten grave somewhere, reached his ears. As he listened, it grew is strength. A low, incoherent mumbling of whispering voices, like a fragment of a song from a half-forgotten dream, endlessly replaying itself.

"Yes," will said. "Yes, I hear it."

"It is calling us!" Kirjava said. Will could hear it now. Ghostly voices speaking in a language he did not know. Was it even a language? He didn't care, for the meaning was clear to him. 

__

Come to us... Come to us... You are the one...

Mary was awakened by someone tugging her blanket. She opened her sleepy eyes and noticed a large bird standing on top of her.

"Melchior?" she asked, genuinely surprised. Her dæmon had been able to take physical form at her command for short periods of time, but this was the first time he had done without her help. "What is it?"

"It's Will and Kirjava," Melchior said. "Something is controlling him! Some sort of unknown force!"

The large bird barely had the time to fly out of the way before Mary had rushed up from her bed and over to the other room. Will's bed was empty. "Where did they go?" she asked.

"They just left," Melchior said. "I don't know where they are heading."

Mary quickly examined the room. "His clothes are missing. He took the time to get dressed, at least. Check the window!"

Melchior flew over to the Window. "I see them! They just left the building!"

"Can you see where they are heading?" Mary asked, fighting to get her clothes on as fast as humanly possible.

"It looks like he is on his way to the archaeological dig," Melchior answered.

"Dammit!" Mary cursed. "What are you up to, Will?"

Will and Kirjava quickly made their way out of the hotel and across the street. The hotel personnel scarcely noticed, since they had nothing to do with how their guests spent their nights. They stopped and made sure they were far enough from the archaeological dig. Will Turned to Kirjava. "You have better hearing then I. Do you hear anyone?"

"Hard to tell with all these cars," Kirjava responded. "But… wait, I hear two people. Men, coming out of the dig. They are speaking Italian, I think."

Will studied the dig, a large hole in the sidewalk, illuminated by the lampposts and moonlight. He could still hear the voices calling him.

"We need to get past them," he said.

"Are you sure we are doing the right thing?" Kirjava asked. "Following voices in our heads in the middle of the night seems a bit crazy, don't you think?"

Will had to snicker. "Yes, it does sound crazy, but it feels like the right thing to do. At least we're not hypnotised. Now, let's figure out a way to get past those men."

"I could sneak around into an ally and make some noise. Then when they go to look you sneak by."

"Sounds simple enough. Let's do it."

Being a cat, Kirjava was a natural expert in sneaking. Will, being a human, was not, but he had had years of training in being quiet and unnoticeable and once you've learned how to move as silently as possible it's usually there for a long time. Kirjava hurried away while Will as close as he could without being noticed. He could hear the men talking now, though he didn't understand what they were saying. Suddenly a loud crashing sound was heard nearby, and Will understood that Kirjava had completed her part of the plan.

__

"Che cosa era quello?" one of the men said. They both walked into the ally nearby to see what had cause the ruckus. Will hurried to move over to the dig, dodging the rope fence and ignoring the signs declaring that he should stay out, and started to climb down the ladder in the hole. He stopped climbing after a few steps and listened.

__

"Appena un gatto."

"Chi si preoccupa? Sto andando a casa ora ottenere un certo sonno."

"Così."

He heard their footsteps coming closer. He held his breath. To his great joy, they seemed to be heading away from him. He heard a car start and drive away. The moment after that he saw Kirjava's familiar face against the dark sky above him.

"Don't just stand there, help me get down this thing!" she pleaded.

Will climbed back up and took Kirjava with his left hand. Holding her steadily towards his he climbed down again.

The catacombs were ancient and dank. The smell of millennia-old air and dust was everywhere, Illuminated only by strains of electric lights attached to the walls through the complex. Will could not understand how a place so large could have remained hidden for so long.

But above all other impressions the place gave him were the voices, never pausing in their endless chant. Their voices sounded stronger and more eager for each step he took into the catacombs.

__

Come to us… It is your destiny… Come to us… Come to us now…

It guided him throughout the ancient tunnels with supernatural precision, past graves with skeletons covered in dust and cobwebs, deeper into the unknown.

Suddenly he stopped. There was a wall before. Just an ordinary wall, no symbols or writings, just a very old and dusty wall.

"Strange," he mumbled. "There shouldn't be a wall here."

He suddenly realised that he heard footsteps nearby. He reacted too late and felt a strong, bony hand take a solid grip around his arm.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Will turned his head. The voice and the hand belonged to a small man with glasses and a grey beard. Will guessed that he was an archaeologist working late. He struggled not to panic and Kirjava hissed from within the darkness.

"I… I…" Will's mind raced, but before he had the time to come up with a way to escape, a familiar shape made her way around the corner and walked up to him. She was, apparently, very upset.

"William Parry!" she said. "I hope you have a really good explanation for this or I'll make you wish you were never…"

"_Excuse_ me!" the archaeologist said. "But since I am the only one of us actually _allowed_ to be here, I would like to know what is going!"

"First things first," Mary said. "Would you kindly let go of my nephew?"

The old man gave Will an angry look before doing so. Mary nodded. "Good. Let us now introduce ourselves. I am Dr Mary Malone and this is my nephew William Parry."

"Dr Rolf Lindh," the man responded. He now took a closer look at Mary. "Dr Malone, eh? I've heard of you, but I was under the impression that you were a physicist. Care to explain your new-found interest in the archaeological field?"

"That was my fault altogether, Dr Lindh," Will said. He was beginning to realise exactly how big trouble he was in, but he still felt the strange voices calling him. "I apologise. By the way, did you know there is a hidden room behind the wall?"

The confused doctor stared at the wall Will was pointing at. "A hidden room? How on Earth can you know that? Are you sure?"

"Take a look for yourself," Will said and quickly grabbed a nearby shovel. Before Mary or the doctor could stop him he gave the wall a few good blows with it. The almost millennia-old wall crumbled and fell in a cloud of dust.

__

"Helvete!" Dr Lindh shouted. "What the hell do you think you are doing, kid? Have you any idea what you could have… could have…" he was silenced by the sight that lay before him. As the dust settled a dark chamber was revealed in front of them.

"Good Lord!" Lindh whispered.

"Told you," Will said. 

Now the voices were no longer whispering; they were screaming at him, shouting, calling him.

__

…come to us you must come to us come to us come to us you must come to us **now**!

Will stepped into the chamber, followed by Mary and Dr Lindh, who had just ignited a flashlight. The soft light filled the tomb, spilling on the ancient wall full of spider-webs. The air was even older then the air in the rest of the catacombs. The chamber was decorated with mosaics and carvings, unlike the other harsh tunnels they had seen up till then.

In the centre of the room there was a sarcophagus made out of stone.

"Incredible!" Lindh said. "Whoever is buried here, he must have been a very special person."

Will turned to Mary. "Do you hear it, Mary?" he asked.

Mary nodded. "Yes," she said, quietly. "But there is something wrong, Will. Something terribly wrong!"

Will turned to the large stone casket. "Perhaps, but I must know."

He put his hand on the dusty stone.

__

…come to us come to us come to us come to us come to us come to us…

"What is he doing?" Dr Lindh asked. Mary held her hand up to quiet him.

Will put both his hand on the heavy lid of the sarcophagus and pushed. It moved a little. He tried again, trying harder this time. It moved enough for him to look inside.

A human skeleton, dressed in what must once have been fantastic garment. Gold and jewellery and… a sword. Laying upon the skeletons since long broken chest, the bony hands still clutching the hilt. Will knew that this was what he had come for. He slowly reached into the sarcophagus. The voices cried higher the closer his hand came to sword, until he could hear nothing else.

__

…come to us you must come you need us **we need you come to us** COME TO US! COME TO US!!!

And then his fingers touched the golden hilt. The voices disappeared. For a minute he though he had gone deaf, but then he heard the breathing of the others. Even Dr Lindh could only stare at him.

Will carefully removed the skeletons hand from the hilt. The hand fell apart as he touched it, but he cared not. He grabbed the hilt and carefully lifted it from its place.

He saw now that it was placed in a leather scabbard. How the scabbard had survived throughout the years he could not even guess. He took it in his other hand, the one missing two fingers, and pulled the sword out. A soft but high tone rang throughout the otherwise silent tomb. Will stared at the weapon.

It was broad, but not that long. It was lighter then it seemed and well balanced, so he could hold it comfortably in one hand. The polished blade shimmered and shone, as if it had an inner light. There was not a spot of rust on it. Runes he could not read decorated the inside of the blood-gore.

"My Lord!" Dr Lindh said and came closer. "I have never seen anything like that. May I…?"

Will hesitated for a moment, but the placed the sword in the hand of the archaeologist. Dr Lindh held it in the ray of the flashlight, examining the blade.

"Let me see," he said. "This isn't right! This is not a Roman sword, it's Scandinavian! But this tomb is a thousand years old, and this looks like it was made yesterday." He squinted his eyes and tried to read the runes. "Let's see here. T-I-R-F…"

He stopped, and the checked it again. His hands started shacking. "It can't be!"

Finally, he could not hold on to it anymore. He dropped in on the floor, and it hit it with the point first. Without a sound the entire blade sank into the stone, stopping at the handgaurd with a soft _click! _Everyone in the room, even Kirjava, stared in disbelief.

"The legend is true!" Dr Lindh breathed. "It is Tirfing! Tirfing, the Dwarf Blade!"

As in a dream, Will bent down and took the hilt. He pulled the sword up again and noticed that it left a perfect blade-shaped hole in the floor. He made a slow swing with it, cutting straight through the one of the corners on the sarcophagus. Will didn't even feel any resistance as the blade severed the chunk of stone from the rest of the object. It immediately fell off. Will lifted his damaged hand to touch the flat side of the blade. It seemed to shine even more now.

"It's another one," he whispered.

"Will," Mary said, for she immediately knew what he was thinking. "Don't do it!"

Will looked at her with sad eyes. "I have to, Mary. You know I do."

He held the sword in front of him slowly letting the blade sweep through the air. He tried to find the small hacks that he had used when wielding the Knife, but found nothing. He tried once again, but with the same results. He spirits sank, and he almost gave up. But then he gained new will and he concentrated all of his willpower on the blade. He felt a strange sensation, as if part of him actually entered the metal. The glow inside it was brighter now, bright enough to see with the naked eye. Will drew a deep breath and made a final cut.

A glowing portal opened, and suddenly a window had formed. A hole through the worlds, perfect and flawless. On the other side he saw a forest drenched in moonlight.

"We did it," he said. "Kirjava, we did it!"

"Let us go!" the cat said. "There is no time to loose!" 

"Will," Mary said. "Please…"

"I will return," Will said and looked at her. "I promise."

Then he stepped through. Kirjava took a leap through the portal, following him. It immediately closed behind her, and Mary found herself alone in the dark chamber with Dr Lindh. The archaeologist seemed to shocked to speak at first, but soon he got over it. "Did you see that! The boy just disappeared! Where did he go?"

"To another world, I suppose," Mary said. She was naturally very worried for her young friend, but realised that she probably should make Dr Lindh forget about this incident and then figure out what to do later.

"But…" Lindh said as Mary summoned her will to tap into his brain. "That was Tirfing! He can't use that sword!"

Mary let it go. "What did you say?"

"I… I said he can't use it," Lindh repeated. "At least not without putting himself at great risk."

"And why _exactly_ is that?" Mary asked. She could now feel a cold shiver running down her spine.

"Because there is a curse of blood on that blade," the doctor said. "That is, if the legend is true."

"Would you mind telling me exactly what "curse of blood" means?" Mary asked. She decided that she disliked the entire situation the more she learned about it.

"Well, my Norse mythology isn't what it once was," Lindh began. "But for what I know, it started way back in the early Viking-era. A man named Suaforlami was the king of Gårdarike, which is what is now Russia. One day he rode out on a hunting trip. He sought the whole day for a hart, but couldn't find any. When the sun was setting he found himself immersed so deep in the forest that he did not know where he was. Suddenly he happened to come across two dwarves. Drawing his sword against them, he forced the towards a rock and threatened to kill them. They asked him to spare their lives in return for a ransom. He asked them their names, and learned that they were the brothers Dyren and Dualin. He knew that the dwarves were the best bladesmiths in the world, and he also knew that Dyren and Dualin were the best among the dwarves. Therefore he forced them to swear that they would forge him a sword unlike any other, a weapon that would cut through stone and steel with ease, a blade the would never break and would never yield to a shield or armour. The dwarves had no other choice but to accept these conditions. 

On the appointed day Suaforlami returned and the dwarves delivered the sword. The king found that it was indeed as powerful as the had requested, and gave it the name Tirfing."

"Let me guess," Mary said dryly. "The dwarves had a little surprise for him?"

"They had indeed," Dr Lindh said. " They were bitter and greedy, and proclaimed that the sword would be the bane of all who live, that it should forever sow strife in the hearts of men. Suaforlami fought in great battles, but was himself slain by a berserker named Andgrim, who passed it on to his son. The sword changed owners multiple times, and wherever its bearer journeyed, death walked close behind. Throughout the legend, everyone who so much as laid his or her hand on the Tirfing has turned into cold-blooded murderers! There are two incidents were the owner kills his own brother, one were it is the best friends who is slain, one son, one father-in-law and a whole bunch of innocents who just happened to be standing there."

"So what are you saying?" Mary said. "That Will is also going to go mad and start killing people?"

"I don't know!" the archaeologist said. " I'm a _scientist!_ I know nothing about magic or witchcraft! That's just what the legend says! Look, the Vikings weren't the most peaceful people the world has ever seen. Their entire religion was built on the belief that dying in combat was the only sure way of avoiding an eternity in Hel. For crying out loud, their version of Heaven was nothing more then eating, drinking and fighting in all eternity, right down to the end of the world! Perhaps this boy is affected otherwise, or not affected at all. We can only speculate."

"But what happened to the sword, then?" Mary asked.

"Well, the last recorded owner of the Tirfing was named Angantyr, son of King Heidreker. He bore it in battle against the Huns and did great slaughter, but among the slain was his own brother, Laudur. After that, no one knows what happened to the blade."

"I think I can take a wild guess," Mary said. "Angantyr was himself slain by the Huns, and Tirfing ended up in the hands of one of their warriors. Later, perhaps when Attila attacked Rome, it ended up with that bloke over there, who saw to it that it was buried with him."

"Something like that," Lindh said. "Now, could you please explain to me why that boy disappeared?"

Mary sighed. "Sure. Look into my eyes, please."

A few minutes later Mary had returned to the hotel and Rolf Lindh's only memory of the incident was finding the hidden chamber and opening the sarcophagus. There was not a trace of her, Will or the sword in his memory.

Mary threw herself on the bed, not really knowing what to do.

"Damn!" she said. "I should have stopped him. This is not good, I can feel it!"

She suddenly realised that her friend had really left their world again. She was all alone now.

Note: Alright! Finally some action! I should warn you, by the way, that the rest of the story is going to be way more Fantasy then Sci-Fi, in contrast to the original trilogy, which was more Sci-Fi then Fantasy (think Narnia for comparison). Don't look at me like that! These things happen! Anyway, I hope I'll manage to get some elements of that steampunkish anachronism we all love from HDM into this story as well.

The Italian in this chapter was provided by the Altavista Babel Fish. I hope it is all correct.


	8. Seaña

Authors Note: Well, I couldn't have Dark Nation glaring at me all the time ;) so here it is, chapter six. I realise that I take time between updates, but keep hammering me and I'm sure we'll see the end of this sooner or later. I truly hope this story isn't left unfinished like _certain_ _others_, as this might be one of the best fics I've written thus far. Hope you enjoy it!

****

Chapter VI: Seaña

__

"Come from deep glen and

From mountain so rocky,

The war-pipe and pennon

Are at Inverlochy.

Come every hill-plaid and

True heart that wears one,

Come every steel blade and

Strong hand that bears one."

- Sir Walter Scott, "Pibroch of Donuil Dhu"

Note, regarding names:

Some names and words featured in this chapter and the following ones are to be pronounced as written below, in English. ´ means long vocal while ` means short vocal. Thus "á" is pronounced as in "star" while "à" is pronounced as in "cat". If not stated, the pronunciation is left to the reader's liking.

Graim: [gra-ìm]

Seaña: [sanja]

Ilaina: [ee-lejna]

Rancesca: [rhàn-**seska**]

Othar: [O-thár]

Tirip: [ti-ripp]

Hisminji: [hiss-**mín**-jì]

Bælrog: [**bell**-rog]*

Draug: [draagh]*

Misling: [mizzling]

"Stoft aug Askir!": [stoft og as-kir]*

Thiazi: [ti-azi]*

Disiian: [dis-ian]*

*Not in this chapter.

Will and Kirjava stepped out in a forest at night. High, dark trees surrounded them, trees somewhat reminiscent of pines and somewhat of oaks. A large, white full moon shone down between the branches. Stars they did not know twinkled at them.

"Will, where are we?" Kirjava asked.

"I don't know," Will said. "Any sign of a Spectre?"

"No," Kirjava said. "Seems like the sword doesn't let any Spectres through."

"Great, maybe the angels will let me keep this one," Will said bitterly and resheathed the sword. He fastened the belt to his waist. It fit him pretty well, but the new weight on the hip was somewhat distracting. He guessed he'd get used to it after a while, though.

"Have you noticed that the window we opened is gone now?" he asked his dæmon. "It closed behind us. Perhaps the Knife was just a beta-version?"

Kirjava didn't seem to see the amusing in his remark, for she immediately tensed up. "Something is coming," she said. "_Several_ somethings. Big ones, at that!"

"From where?" Will asked and put his hand on the sword.

"Everywhere," Kirjava whispered, the fur on her back standing on end.

Suddenly large, hulking shapes seemed to emerge from the shadows, as if they were born from them. Golden eyes glimmered in the moonlight, watching their every move.

"This doesn't look good," he said and drew Tirfing. Immediately, the creatures changed their pattern of movement. Now they seemed to circle him and at the same time creeping closer and closer. Will held the sword in front of him, ready for anything.

Now when they were closer, he could see them better. The looked allot like wolves, but much, much larger. They did not move like wolves either. The closest resembling movements Will could recall had to be the ones of mountain gorillas, thought not nearly as clumsily. The powerful legs did not look like they were made for running, as for wolves, and their way of advancing towards him made him suspect that they were not just unintelligent animals.

One of them, a large brown one, stepped forward and growled at him. Immediately a grey one leaped forward and snapped at him. 

"Hold!" it said in a remarkably human voice. It lifted a paw and pointed it at Will. Will noticed that they actually had fingers. "Do not attack! Do you not see that he has a dæmon?"

"He does not scare me, Graim," the brown growled back.

"You have not been in combat with wizards before, Gmorg," the grey one said. "I have."

"We are many," Gmorg said. "He is alone, and he is but a boy!"

"Listen to me," Will said. Both of the lupine creatures stopped their argument and glared at him. He felt an urge to run, but suppressed it. If they could talk they were intelligent and if they were intelligent they could be reasoned with. He hoped. "I don't know exactly who you are, but I can assure you that I do not wish you any harm. I just came to these woods, and if I am trespassing on you territory I apologise."

The one named Graim gave off a barking sound that might have been a laugh. "You hear, Gmork. He does not want to fight at all!" He turned to Will. "Have you come to fight in the war, boy?"

"I don't know of any war," Will answered. "I am on a journey to find someone who was lost to me."

"If you have never heard of the insurrection you must truly have travelled from far away," Graim said. "Tell me your name."

"William Parry," Will answered. He made a gesture towards his dæmon. "This is Kirjava."

"Well met, William Parry and Kirjava," the creature said. "I am the werewolf Graim Hillpaw, Alpha of this pack."

"I still do not trust him," Gmork said, almost grumpily.

"His smell is sincere," Graim said. "Have you begun to doubt even your nose now, Gmork?" This caused random chuckles within the ranks of the werewolves. Gmork growled and backed off to his comrades, as a sign that he surrendered to the authority of the Alpha. Graim turned again to Will. "You can put your weapon away, William Parry. I assure you that non of my warriors will threaten you."

"Thank you," Will said and resheathed Tirfing. "I need to find someone who can tell me about this land. Do you know where I can find one?"

"If you need to speak to another human, I suggest the cities," Graim said. "However, most cities in this part of the land is still in the hands of the enemy. I would not be pleased to meet you on the field of battle after getting to know you here. But we are on our way to the camp of Princess Ilaina and her rebel army. Ilaina is very wise and she has many powerful Wild Wizards within her ranks to counsel her. If anyone can aid you in your quest, it is her."

"Will you let me follow you, then?" Will asked.

"We will," Graim said. "The camp is not far from here. We will rest now and at dawn tomorrow we will reach them. We are in no hurry so even a human should be able to keep our pace."

"Sounds like we have a deal, Graim Hillpaw," Will smiled.

"We do indeed, William Parry." 

That night Will slept among the werewolves under a large tree, on soft moss and with Kirjava in his arms. He was so tired he fell asleep immediately, even though he was among huge beasts in a unfamiliar world. In the morning he was awakened by Graim himself who gently nudged him.

"Awaken, William Parry," the werewolf said. "It is dawn."

The night had been warm and even though Will awoke with dew in his hair he was not terribly cold. He yawned and Kirjava slowly stretched her body by bending her back. 

"Today we will reach the camp," Graim continued. "Soon you will meet with Princess Ilaina."

The rest of the werewolves were already awake and they soon broke up. The large creatures moved through the terrain as unhampered as if they were humans taking a stroll in the park. Will and Kirjava had a little harder time keeping up with them, as the werewolves were both larger and moved on all fours, but Graim kept his promise and though Will got himself a good exercise he kept pace with them.

Soon the trees were growing more sparse and soon Will could see a collection of large tents that had been set up in a wide open area. People in different sorts of armours, armed with swords and pikes were moving between the tents.

"Ah, the army of Ilaina Teromane," Graim said. "They shall be our brothers and sisters in arms from here on."

When they got closer, Will got a better look at this army. There were both male and female soldiers. Most wore chainmail or plate armours, but there were also those who wore more exotic armours looking like golden scales or thick reptile skin. If he was to place them historically in the timeline of his own world his best guess would have been the middle of the 1500:s, but he didn't see any firearms. He noticed that some of the soldiers were dressed in long robes instead of armour. Some of them were shorter then the others, but very stout. These also had huge beards and seemed to be armed mostly with axes or broadswords. He also spotted small, furry creatures quickly running around on two legs, but after seeing the enormous army of Lord Asriel nothing of this really impressed him.

A officer and a small group of soldiers greeted them.

"Declare yourself and state your intentions," the officer demanded.

"I am Graim Hillpaw, Alpha of the Ascending Mountain pack," Graim responded. "Me and my warriors have come to swear obedience to your mistress, Ilaina, and aid you in your battle against the tyrant Rancesca."

The officer nodded. "You are awaited, Graim of the Ascending Mountain. Her highness Princess Ilaina will greet you in her tent. This way."

Graim turned to his warriors and barked some orders that Will didn't understand. "Come with me," he then said to Will. "Come, William Parry. I am sure Princess Ilaina will not mind if I bring you as well."

They were taken to the largest tent in the camp. It was green, just as all the others, someone had painted a heraldic standard on it, depicting a white bird, probably a hawk, against a golden background. Will had already seen that hawk on several banners since they entered the camp. Inside, the tent was obviously well equipped, so that the princess could have at least a bit of luxury even when in battle. Will noticed that someone had even bothered to hang a chandelier from the roof. Inside were five women. Four of them looked like ordinary soldiers, and seemed to be the bodyguards of the fifth, who was obviously the princess.

Princess Ilaina was sitting on a large wooden chair, almost a throne, leaning herself against the round table in front of her. She seemed to be around 25 years old and was quite beautiful. Her eyes were blue and clear as the sky itself. A white bandanna tied up her golden hair and Will thought that she looked a bit tired. She was dressed in a light, silvery scalemail and on the back of the chair a silver sword hung loosely in a belt.

"Princess Ilaina," Graim said and bowed his head. "I have brought the finest warriors of my people to fight for you. Our lives are yours now."

"There now, Graim," Ilaina said and stood up. "No need to be so formal. We need any warrior we can get, and you werewolves are renowned for your fighting abilities. I am overjoyed to have your support in this war. Many of us had our doubts that you would side with us at all."

"It is true that we like to stay out of human conflicts if possible," Graim said. "But Rancesca is our common enemy. Only together can we oppose her."

"Well spoken," Ilaina said. She turned towards Will. "And who is this?" 

"We met him in the forest not far from here," Graim said. "His name is William Parry, and I thought he might interest you."

"Very well," the princess said. "You may return to your pack, Graim. You will be informed when we are ready to march."

Graim bent his head one again and left the tent. Ilaina turned back to Will. "So, your name was William Parry?" 

"Yes, your highness," Will said. He was uncertain to what to do, but since she was a princess he felt that he ought to bow, and bent forward slightly. Ilaina looked at him as if he was a new horse she was thinking of buying. "Are you a warrior?" she asked.

"No, your highness. I have fought my share of battles, but only when I had no other choice," Will answered.

Ilaina's eyes fell on Kirjava. "Is that your dæmon?"

Will hesitated, but decided the best thing to do was to answer her truthfully. "Yes, your highness."

"So you are a wizard, then?" she asked.

"No, your highness."

"No? I was under the impression that only wizards and witches had dæmons."

"Not at all," Will said. "Everybody has one, but for you they are on the inside."

"But not for you," Ilaina said and raise her eyebrow. "What does that make you then, if you are not a wizard?"

"It's a very long and complicated story," Will said. "And I fear that you would never believe me if I told it to you. Right now I can only say that I am a traveller, searching for someone."

"Then why have you come to me?" Ilaina asked.

"I was told that you were a wise person who could help me in my search," Will said.

"Perhaps I can," Ilaina said. "But right now I have a war to win." Her eyes fell on Tirfing. "Can you use that sword?"

"Well enough, I guess," Will said and shrugged his shoulders. He really had no actual training but figured he just as well give them the impression that he knew what he was doing.

"Do you mind a test of skill against one of my bodyguards?" Ilaina asked with a gesture towards one of the girls. "I like to know how my soldiers fair in combat."

"I am not one of your soldiers yet," Will said. Ilaina didn't answer and Will realised that she expected a better response. He was about to turn her offer down, but then he noticed a small voice in his head, telling him to accept._ "With Tirfing you can win easily,"_ it seemed to say. _"Let's show them what you are made of!"_

"Very well then," he said.

"Vevila," Ilaina commanded with a gesture. One of the girls took a step forward. She was about the same height as Will, with very dark, almost black hair. She was dressed in a light leather mail over a dark blue tunic and drew a long, light sword from her side. She seemed to be just a few years older then Will and seemed to be very confident.

She positioned herself in front of Will and took an _en guard_ position. Will calmly drew Tirfing out of its sheet. "I hope you are not too attached to that sword," he said.

"Don't worry about me, boy," she said. Will frowned. He didn't like it when people called him "boy", especially when they were not much older then him. Without really giving his actions much thought, he turned sideways having his right foot pointing towards his opponent and his left pointing forwards. He tried to relax his shoulders while turning his upper body towards Vivela and bent his knees slightly.

"Ready?" Ilaina asked. Both Will and Vivela nodded. "Fight!"

Will knew that he should feel a bit nervous, this being his first swordfight and all, but instead he felt strangely agitated. The girl in front of him took a step forward with her right foot and stretched her sword out in front of her to thrust it at him. Will didn't move. He had anticipated the thrust and made a circular movement with his wrist. With a usual sword this would have resulted in a more or less successful parry, but the edge of the Tirfing immediately severed the other blade. Vivela was shocked to see her opponent's sword cut straight through hers with such ease. Will knew that he now had the chance to strike. Before he could stop himself he had turned the parry into a riposte, aimed for the girl herself.

__

"What the hell am I doing?" he thought in the last minute and froze. The deadly blade stopped mere inches from Vivela, who was still staring at the broken sword in her hand.

It was quiet in the tent for a couple of seconds. The Ilaina spoke.

"You carry a very powerful weapon, William Parry," she said. "Indeed, a more powerful weapon then I have never seen before. And yet you claim not to be a wizard?"

Will didn't answer. He was still trying to figure out what had been going in his mind just moments ago. He had been fully prepared to strike the defenceless girl down. He couldn't believe he actually almost killed her.

"Vivela, go to the bladesmith and have your weapon repaired," Ilaina continued. "The rest of you can join her. I wish to speak to Master William alone."

"But you highness!" one of the girls said. "What if…"

"That is an order, Bereca," Ilaina said calmly. "I am sure I am quite safe for now. Go."

The bodyguards obeyed their mistress and left the tent. Before she left, Vivela reached her hand out to Will. "Well fought, I stand bested."

"Thank you," Will mumbled and took her hand. A part of him he didn't knew he had felt deeply ashamed to have been wanting to kill such a honourable woman.

Vivela exited the tent and left Will alone with the princess. Ilaina stood up from the chair and looked at him. He realised that he still held the sword in his hand and quickly resheathed it.

"As I said, that is a powerful weapon," Ilaina said. "I could use a sword like that fighting on my side, and a strong hand to wield it. Are you certain that you would not join my army?"

"I… I am not a warrior," Will said.

"Your way of moving tells me otherwise," Ilaina said. "That stance you took was interesting, where did you learn it?"

"I don't know," Will said and felt extremely awkward. "It just felt natural."

Ilaina nodded silently. She then turned back to her chair sat down.

"I believe I might want to hear that long and complicated story now," she said. "Sit down, you have all the time you need."

Will understood that she would not accept no for an answer and sat down on a nearby chair that had previously been occupied by one of the bodyguards. He knew he was not as good a storyteller as Lyra so he decided to tell the truth, no matter how fantastic it may sound. Kirjava jumped up in his lap and he felt more sure of himself when he place his hand on her soft fur. He began telling the princess the story of his life. How he discovered the opening leading to another world, how he met Lyra, how he won the Knife and how he lost some of his fingers while doing so. He told her about the war against Heaven and how they had entered the realm of Death, about how him and Lyra came to love each other and how they were separated from each other. Finally he told her how he found Tirfing and made his way to her world. Of course, he kept it toned down and he skipped certain parts he didn't feel like telling her about.

"And that is why I am here," Will finished. "With the knife, I could sense the difference between the world, but the Tirfing doesn't seem to work like that at all. I think I need help to find the right world."

"I see," Ilaina said. "And all of this to find this girl, Lyra?"

"You don't believe me?" Will asked.

"Of course I do," Ilaina said and laughed. "I don't think anyone can make such a story up."

She stood up and took her own sword from its place behind her. Then she turned towards him and slowly drew the sword out of its sheath. The blade was silvery and polished like mirror. Will could see that it had small runes carved into it.

"This sword is very special as well," she said and held the silvery blade in front of her. "Let me tell you the legend surrounding it. It is called Fuerza, the Sword of Force. It has a sister, Leyanda, the Sword of Legends. A long time ago two brothers fought over the kingdom of their dead father, King Teromane. One of their battles was so even and so fierce, that soon only the two princes themselves were still alive, along with a few warriors. One of them, Edmin, had the upper hand. The other brother, Peitres, only saw two alternatives, to run or die, and he favoured neither of them. But then something happened. A burning star fell from the sky and hit the Earth right in the middle of Edmin's troop, killing most of his men. Edmin was forced to retreat and Peitres won the battle. Afterwards Prince Peitres sent his men to retrieve the star, for he believed it to be a token from God. They found that it had broken in two by the impact, and that it was made from a metal of a kind they had never seen or heard of before. The prince ordered that the finest swordsmith in the land was to create a weapon out of them, and so the broken star was taken to the master smith Hagir, an ancient dwarf. Hagir accepted the job and got to work. He worked hard for an entire month, but when Prince Peitres arrived he found two swords, not one. When he asked the dwarf what the meaning of it was, Hagir told him to give one of the swords to his brother and keep one for himself. 

Prince Peitres was angered, and wondered why he was to surrender one blade to his enemy. Hagir told him that he had to make a choice, a choice to which sword he wanted to keep and which one he wanted his brother to have. The choice would determine the outcome of the war, and if Peitres kept both blades for himself, he was sure to lose. The dwarf was old and wise, so Peitres heeded his advice. He thought long and hard, examined both swords and compared them to each other, but could find nothing to tell them apart by, except for the names written on their blades. Finally, he surrendered Leyenda to Edmin, keeping Fuerza for himself. Soon the tide turned, and Peitres won the throne. But in the process he lost his right hand, his family and most of his men, and he spent the rest of his life rebuilding his razed kingdom.

My sister Rancesca and I are the two last descendants of King Peitres, now that both our parents are dead. Ever since his days the Sword of Legends and the Sword of Force has been the possession of the house of Teromane. In every war, the ruler has been forced to make a choice, to wear one of them into battle. Just like for Peitres, the choice decided the outcome of the war. Fuerza may lead you to victory, but to a terrible prize. Leyenda gives power, but power that is as easily lost as it is won. When I challenged my sister I too made a choice, and I chose Fuerza. I was young then, and I hated my cold and calculative sister with passion. I believed that no prize was too much to pay in order to seize the throne from Rancesca, but now, after all this fighting and all this death, I wonder if I was wrong."

She made a pause and looked at him for the first time since she began her story, as if she had forgot about him. Then she gave him a tired smile. "You made a choice when you first picked that sword up, didn't you? I know you did, for I see it in your eyes. Tell me, young William, do you believe it was worth it?"

"If it helps me get Lyra back, I will pay whatever the prize is," Will asked.

"Even if it turns out to be your life? Or your soul?" Ilaina's intense gaze burrowed into him, but her face was calm and not unfriendly. Only questioning. Will's eyes met hers.

"I will cross that bridge when I reach it," he said.

Iliana look at him without saying a word. Then she returned Fuerza to its sheath.

"I have a proposition," she said. "Join my army, and fight on my side. Then, when we have won, I promise to use all of my power to locate your loved one. Though not as skilled in magic as my sister, I know many secrets of the Art and have many skilled wizards serving me. I am sure that together we can find a solution. So, what do you say?"

Will felt unsure of what to do. He wasn't all that keen to fight in a war he had no part in, but he didn't know how he was supposed to find Lyra without Ilaina's help.

"Very well, on one condition," he finally said. "If I figure out how to properly use Tirfing before the war is over, I can leave whenever I want."

"I don't see how I could possibly stop you," Ilaina said. "So, we have a deal then?"

"We have," Will nodded.

"Excellent," the princess said and picked up a bell that she had kept on the table next to her. She gave it a ring and almost immediately a servant entered the tent.

"Yes, your highness?" he said.

"Go fetch Othar for me," she said. "I have a job for him."

"Yes, you highness," the servant said and left. Soon he was back with a rather strange character following him.

The newcomer looked like a human male but was very short, standing approximately one and a half meter tall. What he lost is height he took back in stoutness, though. Will had never seen anyone with so broad shoulders before, he looked strong as an ox. He was dressed in leather armour and was armed with a heavy battleaxe. He also had a huge brown beard that had started to turn slightly grey.

"Will, this is Othar Redrock, one of the Dwarven captains under my command," Ilaina said. "Othar, this is the newest member of our army, William Parry. I want you to give him a tour around the camp, show him how it works. He will be instrumental for our campaign, so see to it that he is treated with respect."

"As you command, your highness," the dwarf said and turned to Will. "Come along then, lad."

Will followed the dwarf, throwing a last glance towards Ilaina. The servant also left, leaving the princess seemingly alone in the tent.

"Hisminji, Tirip, you two can show yourselves now," she said.

Suddenly the air in one of the tent's corners started to move, as above a fire, and suddenly a male figure appeared, seemingly out of thin air. He was thin with a pale complexion and had bright blond, almost white hair tied up in a ponytail. He was dressed in a simple grey tunic and a short robe. He wore a medallion around his neck in the form of a moon that was both full and new.

At the same time a small furry ball that had been almost invisible in its place on the chandelier unfurled into a humanoid creature. The creature grabbed the end of the chandelier and swung around in the air, landing gently in front of Iliana and the pale man. The being was small, about a meter long and slimly built. It was covered with brown fur and mostly resembled a giant, humanoid mouse. It stretched its long muscular arms and legs.

"Ahh, it's feels good to move again," it said in a surprisingly human voice.

"Hisminji," Ilaina said and turned to the pale man. "You are the greatest of my Wild Wizards. What do you say about the boy?"

"He is telling the truth, for what I can tell," the wizard said. "I couldn't feel any magic inside him, but I sensed something else. The boy has some kind of power, but I have no idea what it might be. It is possible not even he does."

"I see," Ilaina said.

"Of course, I may be mistaken," Hisminji confessed. "If he really is a powerful wizard, he might have weaved a spell around him to prevent me of observing the truth, though I doubt it."

"If you ask me, the lad seems trustworthy," the mouse-creature said. "But you should keep an eye on him never the less."

"That will be your job, Tirip of the Guild Sqip," Ilaina said with a smile on her lips. "You mislings have a nack for befriending people, and if there is anyone who can gain his trust, it is you."

"You flatter me, you highness," the misling said and bowed. "I shall do my very best." He then turned around and left the tent.

"I hope you are right to put your trust in this boy," Hisminji said.

"Do you sense something?" she asked. "Something amiss?"

"I am not sure," Hisminji confessed. "Perhaps I am just being paranoid."

"I hope so," Ilaina said. "For when your wizard's sense speaks of danger, it usually turns out true." 

Well, there you have it! Next up we will leave Will for a while to see how Lyra is faring in the House of a Thousand Doors! Stay tuned!

Ps. To any Spanish speaking people who might read this; Yes, I am aware that Fuerza and Leyanda is "Force" and "Legend" respectivly in Spanish. I just thought it sounded cool, so sue me.


	9. Within the House

Author's Note: Aha! I'm alive! Seriously, I apologise for the long wait. Believe me, I know what you are going through. I hope this chapter is to your liking, and that it lives up to your expectations.

To be honest, I had forgotten how much I liked this story. It's wonderful to be able to write something with a working and (best of all) working plot! 

I also edited Chapter 5 and added a new quote at the top, since I liked it better then the old one and thought it better reflected what I wanted make of Tirfing. Still Beowulf, though.

Disclaimer: I have no idea who wrote "The Waterford Boys", but is sure wasn't me.

****

Chapter VII: Within the House

__

"I walk the maze of moments

but everywhere I turn to

begins a new beginning

but never finds a finish

I walk to the horizon

and there I find another

it all seems so surprising

and then I find that I know 

You go there you're gone forever

I go there I'll lose my way

If we stay here we're not together

Anywhere is."

- Enya, " Anywhere is"

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea?" Lyra said.

After entering The House, Lyra had made an unsettling discovery. The term "House of a Thousand Doors" seemed to be short for "House of a Thousand Thousand Thousand Doors". She had never been in such a breathtakingly huge place in her life. Atleast while still being indoors, if that term was even applicable in this case.

The actual House was made up of allot of enormous corridors. Emphasis on "enormous". Lyra had seen cathedrals that were less spatial. The gigantic arches and pillars made her feel like one of the Gallvespians, the small people who had flown on dragonflies and served as spies for Lord Asriel, her now lost father. At first she had thought the structure, if one could even call it that, to be made up of some sort of polished grey rock, dark and smooth like steel. After examining the walls and pillars more closely, though, she had decided that it seemed more like smoky glass. The dark tone actually came from the other side of the walls. Though she couldn't see through, she knew in her heart what it was; an endless, bottomless abyss, just like the one she had seen on the way out of the land of death. A cold and never-ending emptiness. She shuddered when she though of it.

As for the doors, there were plenty of them. Both walls had an infinite line of portals, twice as high as she was tall and black as polished onyx. Each of them had a strange, complex symbol carved into it, not one of them exactly the same, but that was all. No handles, no hinges, no keyholes. As far a Lyra could tell, there wasn't any way of opening them. So Lyra and Pantalaimon had simply begun walking down the corridors, hoping that something would turn up.

"I don't like this," Lyra continued.

"This is what you wanted, wasn't it?" Pan asked. "Don't worry! We'll be alright. We have enough food, and sooner or later we're bound to find a way out of this. We have been in worse situations before, you know." Even though the dæmon put up a brave face, Lyra could tell he wasn't so confident as he wanted her to believe.

"It's not that," she said. "This place gives me the creeps. Can't you hear the echoes?"

"No," the marten said. "What echoes?"

"Exactly," Lyra said. "There are non. In a place this big there should be allot of echoes, but there aren't. It's like every sound we make is… dampened, somehow. Muffled."

"Yes, now that you mention it…" Pan began.

"And another thing," Lyra said. "How long have we been walking now?"

"I don't know," Pan responded. "I haven't thought of it."

"My wristwatch stopped the minute we stepped into this place," Lyra said. "And even if I try really hard, I can't seem to keep track of the time. We could have been going on for only a half an hour or the whole day."

Pantalaimon didn't answer this time, but he could see why Lyra was worried. If he was to be honest to himself, he started feeling the same way.

The corridors didn't all go straight forward. Some of them bent, went upwards or downhills, connected in crossings or turned into huge staircases for no apparent reason. Here and there they came upon giant plazas, decorated with statues made out of the same smoky glass as everything else in the House. They saw creatures that looked like crosses between roosters and cats, creatures with snake tails and antlers of a deer and other strange beings they had never dreamt of.

Finally, Lyra thankfully sat down on a uncomfortable bench in one of the plazas. Even though she wasn't cold, she wrapped Serafina's cloak around her. "I'm beat!" she said. "Pan, this isn't heading anywhere. Even if we could open the doors there are millions of them. We could search for centuries without finding Will's world."

"Didn't Renska say anything about a guide?" Pan asked.

"I think so," Lyra said and pondered. "Weren't we supposed to find him or her in here?"

"Something like that," Pan said. "She did seem a little hazy at the time and she never got around to explaining what she meant."

"Well, I don't see any guide around here," Lyra said. "As a matter of fact, I don't see_ anyone_ around here. It's like this place is… dead."

There, she had said it. That was what had been troubling her about the House. It seemed to be completely lifeless. She remembered what Dora had said about the House, about how her mother had entered never to come back. She shuddered.

"Maybe we…" she began, but grew silent. She could hear something. It sounded as a voice, and it was singing.

__

"For fun and diversion we have met together,

I tell you from Waterford hither we came,

We crossed the big ocean in dark, stormy weather,

Our pockets were light and our hearts were the same…"

It sounded like a man's voice. Lyra listened and tried to determine from where the singer was coming from, but the strange acoustics of the House played tricks on her hearing and made it quite difficult to tell. He seemed to be getting closer, though.

__

"… Sad at leaving our island we're once more on dry land,

by the roadside a tavern I chanced for to spy,

And as I was melting my pockets I felt in,

For the price of a drink I was mortally dry!"

The voice came closer and suddenly a second, somewhat darker voice joined if for the refrain:

__

"Fo-ooor we are the boys of such fun and such eloquence, 

Drinking and dancing and all other joys! 

For ructions, destructions, diversions an' devilment, 

Who's to compare with the Waterford Boys?"

Finally, the two singers appeared from behind a corner. When they noticed her they stopped their singing and observed her closely.

The first of them, the man she had heard singing first, was of average height and rather thin. He was dressed in sturdy boots made out of crocodile skin, black trousers and a old, torn pilot's jacket. His face was thin and gave the impression of a weasel. A grey bandanna kept his unwiry hair out of his eyes, hair that had an unusually deep red colour, almost like blood. The small goatee on his chin had the same colour and his eyes were emerald-green. From his belt a revolver hung in a holster on his right hip, and on his left he carried an old cavalry saber.

The other man was almost the opposite. He stood almost a whole head taller then his companion and was built like a professional body-builder. He wore a brown leather coat with fringes, dark pants and boots matching the coat. His face was all other then weaselish, with a strong chin decorated with a sparse, blond beard. His hair was cut short and his blue eyes were strangely friendly for someone giving such a powerful impression. He carried a backpack and a Winchester rifle on his on his back. The hilts of what Lyra presumed to be either short swords or long knives also stuck out from underneath the backpack.

What really caught Lyra's attention, however, was the fact that both of them had dæmons. A large fox followed close behind the thin man, and a sparrowhawk rested on the larger man's shoulder. 

The thin man with the goatee spoke. "Well, what have we here?" 

"Looks like a girl," the body-builder said.

"All alone in the House?" Thin Goatee said. "Do I detect a story to be heard?"

"I believe you do," Body-Builder replied and smiled.

"Who… who are you?" Lyra asked. She really didn't like the look on them, especially not the thin man. He had a way of talking that lead ones mind towards velvet, shadows and the sharpening of knives.

"Oh! Excuse my rudeness, young lady!" he exclaimed and bowed deeply. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Saran, and this is my trusted dæmon Thiazi. My mighty companion here goes by the name of Slock, and his dæmon is called Disiian. Who might you be?"

"Lyra," Lyra said. "Lyra Belaqua Silvertongue. This is Pantalaimon."

"An honour," Slock said as he and Saran took a seat on the bench next to hers. They kept a respectful distance, but Lyra still kept her hand on the bone-dagger underneath the cape. It made her feel a bit safer, at least. "And what does a girl like you do in a place like this?"

"I'm looking for another world," Lyra said.

"Aren't we all," Saran smiled. "Is this your first time in the House?"

"Yes," Lyra said after a moment of hesitation. She didn't want to give away too much information to these strangers.

"I can tell, you know?" Saran said. "Slock and I have been here a while now. You develop a certain knack for telling people's character, especially in our profession."

"Your profession?" Lyra asked. "What is that?"

"Professional soldiers of fortune, at your service," Saran said and dazzled another smile, making him look very much like his fox-dæmon. "Sometimes we do other jobs, though. Gladiator-business or bounty hunting, for example. But most the time we're just two honest mercenaries."

"I see," Lyra said, carefully judging her words. "And you have been doing this for a long time, you say?"

"Oh, yes," Slock said. "Ever since we fell into this place."

"Fell?"

"Yeah," Saran said. "One of the three only ways to get into the House of Doors. Either you are born with the gift to open Doors, or you are using some serious magic or technology, or you simply had the bad luck to fall through the small cracks in reality and end up here. It's rare, once in a billion or so, but it happens. Take us two for example. One day we were out hunting food for our tribe. Wham! Next thing we knew, we're here! We thought we had died and come to the afterlife! Almost starved to death before a bunch of bohemian-revolutionary mages showed up and helped us out." 

"I see," Lyra said. She was beginning to see the pattern now. Saran was obviously the talker of the duo, while Slock kept quiet and studied his surroundings. She had often seen the same tactic used by two of her old teachers at St. Sophia. "And how long ago was that?"

"Oh, about 1100 years, I'd say," Saran said.

"One thousand one hundred?" Lyra almost shouted. "Are you really that old?"

"No, not really," Slock said. "It's hard to explain, but apparently time doesn't function in the House, and add to that that time goes at different speeds depending on which world you are visiting. The result is that someone's "age" is always relative in a place such as this."

"Or to put it short; time flies when you're having fun," Saran said.

"And you haven't returned to your own world in all this time?" Lyra asked doubtfully.

"We gave it a try about fifty standard years ago," Saran said. "For old times sake, you know? But there wasn't much left. Nuclear holocaust, you see. Cold as hell, radiation everywhere, no food and these ugly mutant-people who wanted to eat you wandering around."

"How awful!" Lyra said.

"Well, it didn't feel like home to us anyway, and there's always another world to go to," Slock shrugged.

"And the funny thing is, this place is growing all the time!" Saran said. "There is a whole bunch of old geezers in the outskirts trying to map the movements of the doors. Once every three hundred years there are some thousand doors suddenly disappearing without a trace. Then, fifty years later, a thousand new ones show up. Most of them are stable, though." He leaned forward. "But enough talking about us. Let's talk about _you_. Did you fall in here as well or did you use some other method?"

"A girl opened a Door for me," Lyra said. "She wouldn't go with me, though."

"So you don't have the gift, nor are you a magician or scientist?" Slock asked. "Poor girl, you don't really know what you are doing here, are you?"

"Someone said that I had to find a guide of some sort," Lyra said. "I don't suppose the two of you can show me where I should go?"

"Sorry," Saran said dryly. "But we aren't any bloody tourist-agency. We kill things for money, plain and simple."

"Oh, but Saran," Slock said, smiling wryly. "Can't we make an exception? After all, they won't survive for long all alone here."

"No way, Slock!" Saran said. "And even if we did, there is no way she'll be able to pay our fee. And we are _not_ doing this for free!"

"Come on, Saran, where is your good will?" Slock coaxed.

"I don't know, but I have a feeling it is making hell allot more money then we are right now," his partner replied sharply, but then he sighed. "Oh, what the heck. We'll help her."

"Thank you," Lyra said and smiled, though mostly to Slock. He seemed like a nice person, even though his partner still gave her the creeps.

"But I _am_ expecting some sort of payment," Saran said grumpily.

"Well, I am afraid I don't have much money right now," Lyra said. She doubted she would be able to pay them even with the little she had back in her own world, but she was pretty much desperate at this point.

"Oh, we might be able to work out another sort of agreement," Saran said and grinned as he placed his hand on hers. "After all, it gets so _lonely_ in this place."

__

He's not thinking… Oh, dear God! Lyra quickly pulled her hand out of his. She wasn't _that_ desperate, after all.

"Stop it, Saran. You're scaring her," Slock said, suddenly looking serious. "We agreed to charge currency _only_, remember?"

"Sorry, just a little joke," Saran said and gave Lyra a friendly nod. "Don't worry, little one, you're too young for my taste anyway."

Lyra was just about to express her disapproval of such "jokes" when Slock continued; "We usually prefer precious metals, such as silver, gold and platinum, since they are usually rare and valued in most worlds."

"I don't suppose you have allot of gold back home?" Saran asked with a dull voice, as if he had already given up on the matter completely.

Subconsciously, Lyra put her hand over the velvet bag containing her altheiomether. Saran's eyes snapped toward her and all his dullness was gone. He casually leaned forward, his fluent movements only barely concealing an almost explosive excitement.

__

He's not a fox or a weasel at all, Lyra thought. _He's a viper snake!_

"What have you got there?" he asked gently. "Come on, show us."

Lyra felt very uncomfortable, but Slock gave her a reassuring nod. "Go on. We are many things, but not thieves and robbers."

Slowly, Lyra opened the bag and pulled the Altheiomether out. 

Saran's hand became a blur and suddenly he was holding the truthteller. Lyra stared at her empty hand. The movement had been to quick for her to see.

"Hey, give it back!" she cried.

Saran ignored her, closely studying the gleaming object. "Ah, an altheiomether, no? Long time since I saw one. This is worth allot to the right people."

"Please," Lyra said. "It's very dear to me!"

"Saran, where are your manners?" Slock asked. "Give it back to her."

"Ah, but if this trinket is worth so much to her, it would make a perfect pledge until she can pay for our services," Saran said, still playing with the Altheiomether. "So what say I hold on to it until our mission is completed? As a token of our mutual co-operation, if nothing else?"

"But…" Lyra began. 

"It does sound like a good compromise," Slock said and scratched his beard. "Saran tends to be rather untrusting, I'm afraid, and a guarantee of this kind would help keep his nerves calm."

"I can be _very_ unpleasant when I am nervous," Saran added.

Lyra's inner was torn by warring emotions. These people, however untrustworthy and dangerous they seemed, might be her only chance to navigate through the House. Her only chance of finding Will. But her altheiomether was her most treasured possession. The mere thought of being separated from it was painful.

__

"But, if I am to be realistic about it, it's pretty much useless to me now, since I can't read it," she admitted to herself. But what if they would not give it back? What if she was unable to pay them after they found Will?

"Well?" Saran asked. "Either let me keep it for a while and we can get on with business, or you get it back and we'll be on our separate ways. Your choice, kid."

Lyra nodded. Even if it frightened her to admit it, she probably wouldn't survive without their help. "V-very well, we have a deal."

"Excellent!" Saran exclaimed and let the golden compass slip into one of the inner pockets of his jacket. "Let's get going then. We have work in front of us!"

"Work?" Lyra said.

"Yes," Slock said. "There is a civil war going on in a nearby world. Saran and I were just heading there to offer our services."

"Hey! I thought you were working for me now!"

"We are," Saran said. "But we are only contracted to show you the way and considering you have yet to tell us where you want to go, this world is a start as good as any. No point in ignoring the opportunities that comes along, after all."

"This is very unprofessional," Lyra said and frowned as Saran positioned himself in front of one of the doors.

"Oh, don't complain so much," he said. "You're lucky we take you along at all. Embrace the adventure, kid."

He reached out and touched the ornamented door. The symbol immediately dispersed as rings formed on the black surface, as it was made from an oil-like liquid rather then solid matter. A moment later it turned into the same shadowy doorway as the one Dora had created back in Lyra's world. Dark shapes swirled within.

Saran flashed her another toothy grin. "You coming?" he asked before diving into the darkness, closely followed by Slock.

Lyra glared at the Door for a moment, and then tightened her fists with a determined expression.

"Pan," she said as she stepped forward. "I think I really _hate_ that man."

Well, that's wrap! Care to take a guess exactly which world they are going to? That's right, things are starting to get fun! Now I just have to add the other main-characters (Iofur! Can't have a HDM-fic without Iofur! Mwahaha!) and let things have it's natural course! My muses rock!

Reading through my old synopsis, I concluded that some changes must be made to the plot, but it's nothing big. However, I can't really say when the next chapter will be up. It may take a while, though. Please, be patient, and thanks for the support!


End file.
